Scorched Ire
by GaleSynch
Summary: "Can you finish the story please? What happened after the boy died? It can't be the end!" I dragged the silence on, smirking when I saw him growing increasingly impatient. "Hm... let's see... oh yeah, the boy was reborn into another world." [AU, Self-Insert, OC]
1. Chapter 1

**Scorched Ire**

**Chapter #1:**  
_Re___birthday_

"Can you please finish your story? What happened after the boy died? That can't be the end!"  
—Sabaku no Gaara, age 6.

**[...]**

Coming to my senses after such a long time in the darkness, the numbing limbo, my five senses were so sharp I could practically hear the heartbeat of the person holding me. No wait. I wasn't exaggerating, I could truly hear the frantic—and weakening—heartbeat.

Arms encased me, unfamiliar arms. I didn't do hugs. Because a) I'm too old for that, being twenty-six and all and b) I was sure no one in the living world would want to hug me with the way I act around them. But that wasn't the point. The important thing was that the arms were large enough to wrap themselves around my whole body.

I thrashed—and ended up squirming—in the hold but it didn't do much. And damn it, the continuous squalls of some bratty infant was getting very annoying.

Was I kidnapped?

I didn't think I qualified as a kid anymore to be kidnapped. As far as the world was concerned, I didn't exist. I lived alone, having emancipated years ago, I had a decent job and other than back issues, I had quite the boring life.

_nothing excitable, always alone_

I was fine with that. I didn't ask for excitement in the form of being kidnapped. My family wasn't rich, I don't think they have it in them to pay whatever ridiculous ransom the kidnappers had set. Doesn't mean I wasn't about to try escaping. Again, never ceasing, I struggled to escape the caging grip on me.

A soothing voice cooed at me. It wasn't malicious, it was genuinely gentle and kind, tired but happy.

That wasn't the sort of voice you'd hear from a kidnapper. Unless said kidnapper was tired from having lugged you into this place and was very happy with the idea of the money they'd get once my parents coughed up the wanted cash. Fat chance. My parents split up when I was just a kid; my dad was a florist and my mom was a clerk. They don't have much money on them and being on not-so-close terms with them, I didn't think they'd be willing to give up their money.

We were a family of misers. Money mattered a lot to us if you can't tell by now.

Again, I was straying from my current, distressing problem.

I couldn't see clearly, everything was blurry but that wasn't unusual. I was as blind as a bat without my glasses. Still, my vision was blurrier than usual. Something, someone stroked my cheek, still cooing meaningless nonsense.

"Gaara... Natsuo... my precious, precious—..."

I stilled. I wasn't sure I heard right, but before I could think about the names the woman had spoken, she was now kissing my head, laughing softly through her sobs. She was crying.

Even though I didn't know her, didn't know what was happening to me, I stopped struggling, heart throbbing in pain when her sadness radiated through me.

"Sleep," she whispered. "and everything will be... fine... just know that I truly, truly—"

I heard no more, couldn't concentrate when I felt myself being picked up. The screaming and vibrating increased and I was uncomfortably aware of something tearing at my back, something torn away. As if someone had tried to pull my skin off my body.

"—these two are joined at the back—what do we do?"

"—need only one—"

"—that one's so quiet, is it dead?"

"Take the larger one then—I won't let the sealing be delayed any longer, twins only complicate the sealing process, perform the surgery and separate their backs—"

And everything went black.

It wasn't until much later that I realized I was the one who didn't cry.

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**********( ｡◕‿‿◕｡)**

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I had enough brainpower to piece together what had happened. In my past life, I was not the guy you'd go to when you wanted help in Maths or anything like that, because there were a lot of kids in my class who could finish Math problems faster than I could eat a sweet.

I wasn't an idiot though. I was just surrounded by freakishly intelligent people, that was why I appeared as an idiot most of the time. I was the guy who'd be able to tell if you're lying or if you need someone very perceptive—this is the great player of Doubt—by your side in whatever situation.

I noticed instantly, once my vision had cleared, that I had, somehow—impossibly—been thrust into another world, a fictional world that shouldn't exist and thus defied all the laws of the real world, in the body of a frail and premature infant.

The world of ninja and chakra and tailed-beasts: the Naruto world. Except that there's no Naruto or even Konoha.

No, of all ninja villages I had to be born into, it was the village of desert sands and heat. It was a miracle that I didn't shrivel up into a husk.

And that wasn't all, I was the twin brother of Sabaku no Gaara. I wasn't the Jinchuriki which was what made it so hard for me to live since I was born prematurely.

Medic-nins and this old lady—Chiyo—kept flitting in and out of my life, trying to find out what was wrong with me and pumping my heart with the chakra I needed to survive.

Having chakra was an odd sensation for me but I adjusted and I _strove_ to live.

I didn't know how long passed, between the three modes of infants which was _sleepeatsleep,_ before there was a change in my boring routine. Particularly, having visitors.

Temari and Kankuro. Thinking of them as older siblings when I had none in my past life was odd. Kankuro didn't have paint on his cheeks yet, he kept poking, pinching and prodding me until Temari slapped his hand away.

She was nicer but even though she was curious, she never tried to prod me when I'd try to bite her fingers off. Not that I could bite her, I haven't had any teeth yet.

The Yondaime Kazekage dropped in occasionally but I only needed one hand to count the number of times that I'd seen him. He didn't hug me, touch or hold me, just eyed me coldly as if to assess my worth. I couldn't help but notice that his face seemed to soften when he was speaking to his older children.

I wasn't jealous. I was used to being second-best. The not-so-liked child in the family, cast aside for my sweeter younger siblings.

Where my younger siblings (regardless whether they were step-siblings or half-siblings) would be sweet and polite, I'd be sarcastic and troublesome. I was difficult child, as my mother would always complain and I had grown deaf to her shouts. I never get into an argument.

The best way to deal with angry people was to speak calmly, smile and pretend that you're not affected. Works every time. I guarantee it—I'm speaking from personal experience. Such was the downside of being the imperfect firstborn, you'd receive less love (once you have siblings) and parents often go wrong with their firstborn because they have no experience.

I dunno about the rest of the world but that sort of treatment was common in my reality.

I was used to it.

So used that I could no longer tell between jealousy, hurt, anger and apathy.

Seems the same to me—_boring_.

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**********( ｡◕‿‿◕｡)**

* * *

They serenaded me when it was my second birthday. It was a small group consisting of no one but my older siblings, myself and a caretaker. My sperm donor wasn't even there. But I was used to spending my birthdays alone.

One of the older, more motherly caretaker stroke my hair; I heard her murmuring her displeasure at the absence of my father. "Unbelievable... his own son's birthday and he doesn't attend... poor boy must feel so neglected..." Then she'd speak to Temari and Kankuro. "You two must always keep in mind to protect your brother and love him. Make him feel important."

I was actually surprised she liked me so much. That she sounded like she truly cared—and perhaps, to some degree, she did. At the thought that she truly loved me like one of her own, my cold heart warmed, a fuzzy and bubbly feeling surfacing and it was hard to suppress.

I was a hyperactive child so I moved around a lot and generally annoyed my caretakers and older siblings. Only Aiko didn't seem weirded out, she treated me with unusual patience and gentleness that the other caretakers did not show. They knew, as well as I did, that I was not the Kazekage's favorite and that made my value to them drop several prices.

Aiko patted my head, drawing my attention back to the current. "Make a wish, little summer boy," she crooned. She was, however, to exception to baby-talking. I held enough respect for her to not spit in her face when she did that close to me—the other caretakers were not so fortunate.

I had outgrown this a long time ago. Recent years before my last death, I had not even celebrated my birthday which had fell on the 7th of May. 7th of May... it was ironic that I died the same day I was born.

What did I wish for?

My mind worked furiously for an answer but I could find none. Seeing everyone's expectant and impatience gazes, seeing the candles melting into the cake, I decided to forgo the wish and blew on the candle, managing to blow out the three candles in one blow.

By then, Kankuro had stolen a cherry.

I huffed. "Happy re-birthday to me."

* * *

_**Sunagakure, May 7th; 1834 hours**_

_"My summer boy, you know a lot even though you've never seen the outside world much. What an intelligent child you are!"_

_The auburn-haired boy laughs. "Aiko-obaa-san, you won't believe me even if I told you how I knew so much."_

_She hums, smiling, the smile lines around her eyes crinkling when she does so. "Really," she says dubiously, leaning forward expectantly to hear the young boy's answer. "Try me. Whatever you tell me won't be any odder than the things I've seen in my seventy-eight years of life."_

_He giggles, cupping his mouth and leaning close, his voice lowers to a whisper. "This isn't my first life. Today is my original birthday... come on, Obaa-san, wish me a happy birthday!"_

_And Aiko laughs because children have such imagination._

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**[click]**

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything but Natsuo.**

Natsuo = his name means 'summer life'

**Author's Note:** I've read an SI being reborn in Suna but not as Gaara's sibling before so I decided to try my hand. Yes, Natsuo is male in both this life and the last.

**Question:** How do you envision Natsuo's and Gaara's eventual relationship to be like?

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**[review]**


	2. Chapter 2

**Scorched Ire**

**Chapter #2:**  
_Re___acquainting with pain_

"No, it's never the end with the poor boy."  
—Sabaku no Natsuo, age 6.

**[...]**

"Let me play!"

Kankuro turned his nose disdainfully. "But you're a baby," he sniffed. "We don't play with babies, right, Nee-chan?"

Temari frowned, looking discomfited at being put on the spot. "Er, he's right. You're such a sore loser Natsuo, it's... not nice to play with you. You cry when you lose."

"But you cheated! How can you blame me for yelling?" I protested when Kankuro dragged Temari away. Temari just shot me a pitying look before she allowed herself to be pulled out of the room.

My relationship with Temari and Kankuro weren't good. I was tired of Kankuro's stupid questions and we got into fights every time we met; I was now giving him the cold shoulder for when he spilled ramen on my pants. Temari always sided with Kankuro, saying that I started it every single time.

I don't like her and the treatment. But I was used to it. Didn't mean I wasn't raging about it though.

"Jerk!" I yelled, throwing the ball at Kankuro's face; my older brother managed to stick his tongue out in my direction before running in the other direction, pulling Temari with him. The teal ball bounced off the wall, rolling back to me. The ball reminded me of my left eye's color.

Gaara had the same eyes as me, I'm sure of it. I frowned, turning to look out the window. How was Gaara? I wondered if he was as lonely as I was.

I snorted as I slid onto the floor, back against the wall.

Tch. Of course he'd be lonely.

I just didn't think I could empathize.

The front door slammed shut with finality, leaving me along in the kitchenette.

I scowled, letting my head fall onto the table. It was so... quiet. Aiko was out, the rest of the caretakers were relaxing elsewhere and would not appear anytime soon unless I call for them. My eyes roamed the small space, my eyes flickering back to the bright blue sky outside the window every time I moved my gaze somewhere else.

There was no explanation for the pull in my chest, urging me to leave the house.

I listened attentively, made sure no one was approaching before slipping off the chair; tiptoeing to the window and peering out. I needed to stand on tiptoes to do that. From the third floor, I saw a lot. Villagers were milling about, greeting one another or waving and generally doing something.

_Come._

The sand brushed my face gently, as if inviting me to join them in the breeze.

Without a second thought—I was that impulsive—I jumped.

I didn't know my way around the village but I paid the villagers little mind; the sand was blowing, urging me to go down that direction and that—

The wind carried the sand to the right and I followed. I knew where this was going, where the shifting sands were leading me to—

I came to an abrupt halt, gazing wide-eyed at the playground. It was sandy but what drew my attention was a ring of kids. Sand rose from the ground, retrieving a ball but instead of gratefulness, the children screaming, running in my direction, crying monster—

Impulsively, I threw my arms out, snatching the boy and with all the strength I had, forced him back.

He yelled in terror but I didn't care.

"Say thank you!" I yelled in his face, grabbing him by the collar. He cowered, watching me with wide-eyed terror. "Show him your gratitude, he helped you!" I glared at him, shaking him hard. "Do it or I'll crush you with sand." That was a blatant lie, I didn't know any jutsu.

I had just started throwing shurikens and how to hold a kunai right.

I dropped the boy, grabbed him roughly by the shoulders and marched him to the redheaded boy who watched with something akin to horror and awe. "Well?" I snapped.

"T-t-t-thank y-y-you f-for h-h-h-helping us." I released him the same time Gaara dropped the ball he was holding. The boy didn't waste this given opportunity; screaming, he took off running but I paid him no mind.

I knew we were twins but... to bear such great resemblance to one another?

We weren't identical twins, we were fraternal twins but the shape and shade of our eyes were the shape—his hair was short and spiky, mine was wavy and reached the small of my back but the color was the same.

Gaara's eyes were wide, they looked like they would pop right out of his sockets. He gulped. "N-Natsuo?"

I raised a hand, an easy grin rising to my face. "Yo. Wanna have a go on the swing? I'll push you."

And that was the start of a long and beautiful, uh, brotherhood.

Not really. No.

Because our bond was tested not even before the second week we met started.

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**( ****｡◕‿‿◕｡****)**

* * *

On hindsight, it could've been considered my fault. Since it was fun to prank Yashamaru by making it harder to tell who had done it, I had a haircut, cutting it till it was the exact same as Gaara's. I felt lightheaded and naked but I definitely felt cooler.

Anyway, with my hair short, I could pass off as Gaara as long as one doesn't look too closely.

The problem was exactly _because_ that assassin didn't look closely.

I didn't know why the hell our father tried to kill his son this time around but I guessed it was either to get rid of an unstable Gaara or to test his prowess in battle.

An attack meant for Gaara—I stood no chance.

If the ANBU assigned to guard the Kazekage's children (or ANBU who were assigned to see how badly the assassins would screw up) weren't efficient, I would've been dead. As it was, I did not escape unscathed. The ANBU assigned to me had barely been able to Shunshin me out of the building before it exploded.

I didn't know the exact details since I was blinded. Literally. In the right eye where glass shards had pierced my eye when the window had shattered as some fucking second-rate shinobi had jumped in through.

It was the most—fucking—painful—thing to ever happened to me.

I was screaming my head off, clawing at my mutilated eyeball before I was rushed to the hospital. I cried and screamed, I squirmed and struggled—disrupting and preventing the medic-nins from getting down to business until I was knocked out by a sedative.

Fuck it.

Time was elusive, slipping from my grasp, for the next few days. I just remembered disjointed events and flashes of memories—two voices that could've been Temari and Kankuro, a few unfamiliar people flitted in and out, some were white blurs and I knew they were medics.

My mind worked sluggishly, I couldn't open my right eye which hurts as if fiery needles had impaled my eye (wasn't too far off the mark I know), I could only see blurred figures and even them, I couldn't see clearly.

When I finally came to, it was Aiko's face who greeted me.

She soaked the cloth before placing it on my forehead. When the cooling sensation of water touched my skin, I sighed contentedly, I hadn't realized I was scorching before she did that.

"Rest," she crooned. "Nothing will hurt you anymore."

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**( ****｡◕‿‿◕｡****)**

* * *

She couldn't have been more wrong.

My aim with the shuriken had gone to hell because of my blind right eye. I had a hard time adjusting and I kept tripping and falling. Nothing could sum up how miserable I was. I was so furious I snapped at everyone every three seconds. What made it worse was that my sperm-donor (did he even deserve the title father? I dunno what Mother saw in him) didn't even visit and no one tried to offer an explanation.

Not even Aiko.

I knew I was mentally very old and I shouldn't be behaving like a child but I had never been the most mature of adults. Not even Aiko was free from my wrath, I screamed, shattered things and everything.

I lost my eye because of Gaara. Because of my father's insanity. Because of the assassin's sheer incompetence. I hoped my sperm donor had ordered the bastard to be put down, executed, tortured to death or something along those lines. Preferably, I wanted to tear him limb from limb, tie his severed head from the fan with his own entrails and bath in the bastard's blood.

As if he was trying to calm my bad mood, the absent father had sent me a mountain of stuffed toys and dolls. No word, no face. Only a note tagged to the panda: y_our brother loves these_. It seemed as if he knew I had a soft spot for cute things. And the toys he gave me were definitely cute.

But, no. I would not forgive him so easily. It wasn't hard to resent him. Every time I had to turn my head, crane my neck to see something to compensate for the lost vision of the right eye, rage boiled and I'd find myself chucking one of his gifts out of the window.

My sole teal eye glared at the ceiling as I laid, slumped on the pile of gifts.

I think... I'm forgetting something.

What—

Gaara. Didn't I promise him that I'd visit as soon as possible?

How long had it been since I last saw him? I cast a listless glance at the calender hanging on my wall. Three weeks. It had been that long since I last saw him. I was surprised he didn't try to find me, the sand would lead him to me as it did lead me to him.

I needed comfort and someone to complain to: Gaara was the right person.

Temari and Kankuro had scarpered when I threw a fit at them and I knew they wouldn't try to come close to me for a few more weeks at least. I adjusted my eyepatch—it was not a smart move to get sand inside the empty socket where my eye had once been.

It was awkward and inconvenient.

Thanks to that incompetent assassin (and I tried to silence the part of me that screamed bloody revenge on Gaara who was also the cause of this) and my idiot of a sperm-donor (someday, I'm going to kill him before Orochimaru does), I now had to work extra hard to catch up to my level before. I misjudged a lot of stuff wrong, my depth of perception had gone on to the beyond without me.

My reasonably good prowess in taijutsu and shurikenjutsu was now sea-bottom.

The only reason my instructors hadn't lost their temper with me was because I often lost it before they did.

My chest boiled with anger; growling at the unfairness of it all, at how I was unable to do anything to get payback, I thew myself face first on my bed, screaming into my pillow.

My throat was sore now.

Furiously beating the pillow to a pulp, I tried to ignore the wet trail down my cheek.

* * *

**( ****｡◕‿‿◕｡****)**

* * *

Gaara was the one who greeted me, his smile dropping to be replaced by horror when he saw the eye-patch.

"Yo," I said, grinning as I did when we first met. Only an idiot wouldn't be able to tell how stiff the grin was, as if I had to force it onto my face—which I did.

"What happened?" Gaara was a shrewd child. He found out what had happened immediately, he paled, horror didn't seem like it'd be ever be able to leave his features if he kept wearing it like that. "I-It was them, wasn't it?" I arched a brow. "They tried to kill you because they thought you were... me."

I narrowed my eye. "Yeah."

He glanced at his shoes. "Are you mad at me?" His question was meek. It was funny to think that he'd be the Kazekage and sociopath someday.

Best savor this moment because I doubt I'd ever be able to get such a hold on him in the far future.

"Hm... noooo—" I hadn't even ended the drawn out word before Gaara tackled me into a hug.

I didn't return the hug.

Over my twin's shoulder, Yashamaru stepped out of the shadows.

I glared.

He smiled.

This won't be a happy uncle-nephew relationship, I know it. I never had good experiences with my uncles of my past lives; with my hot-temper, sarcastic attitude and someone who simply can't stand rudeness, even from elders—I got along with no one that's assertive.

"Just die already," I muttered bitterly, wishing that the uncles of my old life could hear this too_. I_hate_them_—

Gaara stiffened, pulling back. Too later I realized what I'd said would've been misunderstood. Before I could blink, Gaara was gone, tearing down the streets of Suna.

"Oi, Gaara, come back! I wasn't talking to you—!" But my call fell on deaf ears as the last of Gaara's red hair disappeared down the corner. I glared at Yashamaru. "I hate you! This is all your fault!" I was being irrational, I know, placing every way my uncles had wronged me on this man's shoulders but I didn't care.

"Gaara!"

I couldn't forget no matter how much I tried—the memory burned into my mind—the tears that streamed down my twin's cheeks when he heard my words.

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**Sunagakure, April 13th; 1927 hours**

_He's not a great chakra sensor but Sunagkure isn't too big and Gaara wouldn't wander too far into a territory he's unfamiliar with, Yashamaru has made sure Gaara knows that danger's lurking everywhere for him._

_Needless to say, Yashamaru find the twins easily: in the place where they first meet._

_Gaara's control over his sand is good enough for him to camouflage himself but Natsuo is his twin, the one who's been joined behind his back since they had started developing in their mother's womb, they are, in a way, the same being._

_Natsuo sees through the camouflage easily, hand breaking through the sand effortlessly and lands on his brother's shoulder and Yashamaru is surprise to see Natsuo's expression; so kind and gentle when there's only pure, unadulterated hate on his features when he sees Yashamaru._

_Yashamaru needs to tell the Kazekage-sama about this. Because Gaara has never let anyone breach his sand even when he's so upset before._

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**[click]**

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything you recognize.**

**Question:** Your thoughts?

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**[review]**


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